Past Resolved
by Franciscan Gypsy
Summary: Ever wondered what Claude thought about all that transpired after he got shot by Bennet?


"_What's the mission?"_

"_Looking into a security breach. That's all I know. That's all they told me."_

"_That's all they told you to tell me, but what you know is considerably more. You're not as good a liar as you think."_

"_You're the security breach."_

"_Is that what they're callin' me behind me back? I was hopin' for something a bit more subtle. A pun at least. You Americans are usually good for a pun."_

"_Is it true? Are you hiding one of them?"_

"_By them, you mean people like me? Is that what you're accusing me o' hidin'? Well the short answer is _yes_ isn't it?"_

"_You compromised what we're doing."_

"_Sorry. I mean, I know we're servin' the greater good, but the deception was starting to keep me up at night. Seeming as you're raising one o' us as your own, I was hopin' for a bit more sympathy."_

"_Claire is not one of you."_

"_Not yet, but one day maybe. And don't tell me you haven't thought about it."_

"_She is, then I'll take her and it's done."_

"_Oh, just like that? Father of the year, you are."_

"_I know who I work for."_

"_So do I! I was in your office when they told you to kill me."_

"_Then why'd you get in the car?"_

"_Evidently I figure you're a better man than they do."_

_

* * *

_

Claude woke up, gasping for air. He had been perfectly happy to leave the Company behind; had thought it important to break the rules. He hadn't had nightmares about being shot by Bennet for a while.

He had never had one just about their conversation in the car before Bennet had pulled the trigger.

"I'm gettin' soft in the head, dreamin' about the past," he muttered, swinging his legs over the side of the bed.

It had been so _vivid_, though. Like reliving it.

Claude sighed. Soft _and_ delusional. Great. Too bad he wasn't an empath or telepath – at least then he could blame his unusual state of mind on his gifts. That excuse didn't exactly make sense when one's ability was to turn invisible.

He padded to the little kitchenette a room away from the bedroom. Ever since Peter Petrelli had disappeared, Claude had been inhabiting his abandoned apartment. The Petrelli family mostly left the rooms alone; Nathan had come at one point to try and clean it out, but had been unable to finish the job. No one had visited since.

That worked very well for Claude; the Company wouldn't look for him in Petrelli's old apartment considering the fact that Claude had lived off the street in the past few years. So an upgrade in accommodations wasn't just more comfortable – it also made more sense.

At least that's what Claude kept telling himself.

Claude started pouring himself a glass of water from Peter's nice Bria water pitcher. He had nothing to worry about. He could actually relax for once…

Peter Petrelli…

Peter, the empath…

"Blast!" Claude cursed as he over-poured and water spilled all over the counter. Of course Peter couldn't just stay dead.

"Well, if you're gonna be givin' me nightmares, ye might as well give me a hand cleanin' up your bloody kitchen!" the invisible man glared into the dark.

After a second's pause, the air in the darkest part of the kitchen shimmered a bit and then Peter became visible.

"You've learned to control your abilities finally," Claude remarked sourly.

Peter smiled, but the expression did not reach his eyes. "Nice to see you too, Claude."

The young man had aged since Claude had last seen him. Not so much physically, but in his eyes and bearing. His expression was less open, less trusting; his eyes darker and deeper with pain. He looked like he had matured and learned the lessons Claude had strived to teach him a year ago the hard way.

He snagged some dish towels from a nearby drawer and knelt on the floor to swab up the water that quickly pooled there. Claude concentrated on cleaning up the mess on the counter.

"You messin' with me head, Peter?"

Peter glanced up and smiled sadly. "It's nice hearing that accent again." He shook himself. "And to answer your question… no. At least not completely. You were already semi-dreaming that. I just noticed that there was someone here and investigated the dreams to see if I could identify if you were friend or foe."

He cocked an eyebrow. "I didn't know you were Mr. Bennet's partner."

Claude snorted. "_Were_ bein' the operative word. And since when have ye been on any name basis with Bennet?"

Peter's eyes went distant again. "You remember that sweet little cheerleader I told you about?"

Uh-oh.

"The one ye got yer healin' from? Of course."

Peter smiled; this time it did reach his eyes. For the first time since he had entered the apartment, he looked like the Peter Claude had known. "She's my niece, I found out. And Bennet's adopted daughter."

Claude could feel his heart ice over. Another one lost to the company. "Does Bennet know she can heal?"

Peter nodded, surprised. "Of course. He knew before I did."

"So the Company has her now." Claude could feel the old bullet wounds ache. _Blast Bennet. Blast him to Hell._

"No. The Bennets have been running. Keeping her safe." Peter grimaced. "Claire hates Mr. Bennet for everything, for all the secrets, but he's been just striving to keep her safe. If he wasn't so useful, I think the Company would have killed him by now." He shrugged. "I dunno; maybe they still hope he'll wake up and change his mind about turning Claire over to them."

"_She is, then I'll take her and it's done."_

"_Oh, just like that? Father of the year, you are."_

"_I know who I work for."_

"Of course they've ordered him to obey Company policy?" Claude demanded, his brain reeling.

"I suppose," Peter shrugged, "Either way, I know that Mr. Bennet refuses to become Bob, refuses to let Claire become like Elle. I don't even know where they're living right now. I doubt that the Company does."

"_Evidently I figure you're a better man than they do."_

It was nice to find that his character assessment of Bennet hadn't been as far off the mark as he had thought it to be all these years. Too bad Bennet had decided to stand by his conscience to late save Claude a couple of bullets to the chest.

Maybe people could be trusted. Maybe there really was good in everyone. Maybe Peter had been right and not Claude.

Claude slung an arm around Peter's shoulders, causing the younger man to jump. He raised his eyebrows at the empath. "So… your niece, eh?"


End file.
